


so show me family

by spacenarwhal



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Friendship, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 13:50:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20931266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacenarwhal/pseuds/spacenarwhal
Summary: He sort of half-heartedly hopes that this honeymoon glow fades soon, Foggy can’t afford to spend the rest of his life over the fucking moon because he’s got his best friends back, making sensible decisions and trusting each other as they do reckless and dangerous shit as safely as possible. Together.[Or: After the new napkin, Nelson, Murdock, and Page settle into a new routine.]





	so show me family

Karen’s greeted by the singular scent of deli meats and freshly brewed coffee as soon as she walks through the front door. There’s already a line of early morning regulars waiting in line at the counter, but Theo spots her all the same, smiles and waves a napkin at her from behind the counter, “Order’s up, Page.” He says in greeting and Karen smiles in thanks, reaching over to grab the small paper bag Theo hold up for her. The grease is already starting to seep through the parchment wrap but Karen’s stomach rumbles, already wondering what Theo’s thrown together for her this morning.

She maneuvers through the thin crowd, smiling back at the regulars who greet her as she makes her way over to the table where the coffee’s set out. Karen worried at first, when they first started moving their things into the rooms upstairs, that it would be too much like Vermont, being in such close proximity to a restaurant and a family legacy, the distinct sounds and smells of it, but the deli is nothing like her father’s failing diner and Karen isn’t a waitress or a hostess or a manager.

She’s Karen Page here. It means something it hasn’t meant in a long time.

“You’re living the good life right here, aren’t you Ms. Page?” Asks Ned, one of the Nelsons’ oldest regulars (the man happily told her he’s been coming in for the last twenty years to get his pastrasmi on rye from Edward Nelson, and now he’s happy he gets to keep getting his fix from Theo).

Karen bobs her head, stirring sugar into her coffee. She knows Ned’s referring to the egg and bacon sandwich still warm in the paper bag to her elbow but she can’t help thinking of the sign Foggy painstakingly screwed into the wall outside their door. _Nelson, Murdock, and Page._

(“We’re home.” Foggy cheered, Karen squeezed against his side by the arm that wasn’t dragging Matt in. Matt snorted, an ugly gut-wrenched sound that made his whole face scrunch up and Karen’s own face felt flushed from more than the whiskey they’d been sharing downstairs. “Foggy tell you about the time he tried to sneak Raj—” “Shut up Matthew.” And suddenly Foggy and Matt were trying to get one another in a headlock and Karen was laughing, half-drunk and fully incredulous, the disbelief that this was really hers hitting her with all the force of a shot.)

“You know it, Mr. Fulmer.”

-

Foggy’s heart thrums excitedly as soon as Matt’s through the door and he tosses something over Matt’s head in Karen’s direction.

“Damn Murdock, setting new records here.” Foggy says and Matt makes a show of ignoring him, walking calmly and efficiently over to his current desk—a folding table that matches the ones Karen and Foggy are working off of—setting his cane aside and setting his things out to start the day. A few feet away he hears the distinct squeak of a dry erase board marker scribbling a new number on the board that hangs behind Karen’s desk. _Days since last accident._

(“It certainly draws less attention than ‘days since ass was last handed to Matt Murdock by city’s criminal element’” Foggy mused innocently. Matt threw a pen cap at the back of his head.)

“You two planning on working today?” Matt asks, trying his best to sound cantankerous though his mouth doesn’t quite cooperate, twitching upward before he can restrain it. They’ve been back in business for little under a month now and Foggy and Karen both have been diligent about updating the board every morning Matt comes to work uninjured and on time. It feels like the modern equivalent of punching a time card. Or close enough.

“We’re celebrating you, Matt.” Karen snaps back, but there’s no heat in her voice, just the bubble of repressed laughter. “Shut up and enjoy it.” It’s interesting, not having to hide when he’s hurt and being lauded for being in one piece. Matt had been half afraid when they’d agreed to work together again that it would be a repeat of last summer, when Foggy always seemed to be hovering nearby, crackling with disappointment over his actions. And maybe it’s just the silver lining that Matt hasn’t been seriously injured since taking Fisk down—he’s fighting is better than it’s been a long time, sure, but he’s also gotten a new appreciation for the idea of living to fight another day—but it hasn’t been anything like that.

Instead it’s Karen driving him to an emergency clinic the morning he came in favoring his left side and taking him home when the doctor told him his ribs were bruised and Foggy showing up at his door with dinner and case files and a stern lecture that their health plan was comprehensive enough to cover house calls. (“Rand knows someone,” Foggy said after a few mouthfuls of lo mien, “You’ve got the hook up now Murdock.” He saved the number to Matt’s phone. “You better make sure you use it.”)

It’s this running joke that Matt isn’t particularly bothered by, not when it feels like maybe it’s true, that Matt Murdock and Daredevil really can coincide in the same place.

“If you make it a month I’m buying you a pizza.” Foggy adds, snorting forcefully when Matt flips him off.

-

“Pepper spray?” Foggy asks, watching Karen pack her bag. Karen pats the side pocket, “Check.”

“Gun?” Foggy asks, proud that he doesn’t sound anything but nonplussed and chill when he says the word. Karen nods, “Check check.”

“Gun permit?” Matt asks from his desk, which is fucking hilarious as far as Foggy’s concerned but he’s not going to interrupt Karen’s important pre-game ritual.

“Triple check.” Karen says, briefly meeting Foggy’s eye in a suggestion that the irony isn’t lost on her. Foggy grins.

Karen shoulders her bag, “Okay, I’m going to check out the lead Ellison shared. I’ll call as soon as I’m clear. We’re still doing dinner at Quinn’s?”

Foggy nods, “Seven, right Matty?”

Matt nods, pulls his hands off the screen reader set in front of him. “Yeah, that’s good.” Foggy does his best not to preen, because that would be weird. He sort of half-heartedly hopes that this honeymoon glow fades soon, Foggy can’t afford to spend the rest of his life over the fucking moon because he’s got his best friends back, making sensible decisions and trusting each other as they do reckless and dangerous shit as safely as possible. Together.

But he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t been enjoying this. Fuck. Loving this.

Because they might be squished together into these rooms that smell like decades of cured meats but Matt is looking better than he has in years and Karen’s face has lost that drawn out desperation, both of them looking more at ease than Foggy’s ever seen them. Like they’ve both found a place where they belong.

(Foggy knows he’s where he belongs, knows who he is with a renewed sense of clarity that makes him giddy.)

Karen leans over to squeeze Foggy’s arm before she heads out the door and Foggy watches her go, affection stirring deep in his chest. The feeling only intensifies when he turns back to his remaining partner. Matt must know Foggy’s staring, he’s called him on it before, but today he just carries on, fingers hovering over the shifting face of his screen reader. He’s somehow more stupidly gorgeous than he was at twenty-two.

Foggy watches Matt work for a second longer before he heads back to his desk. Afterall, there’s work to do. 


End file.
